


all I wanted was a white knight (I got a prince instead)

by orphan_account



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-11
Updated: 2009-04-11
Packaged: 2017-10-10 21:37:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/104574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur makes Merlin warm his bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_In past years, winters have been tame in Camelot. I have watched autumns smoothly turn into the harshest of seasons to just as easily slip into spring, fields blossoming again and the thick blanket of clouds ripping open to reveal spots of blue sky. It is colder this year, windy gusts cutting like knives from the north-east, snow covering the lands overnight, as people from the outskirts move to Camelot to seek shelter, dozens of them from villages and small towns._

_There has not been a winter like this one in the northern parts of our world in over half a century, and the castle is buzzing with unrest and trepidation. There are maybe two more months of ice to survive, and warmth is getting scarce, especially within the thick castle walls._

\- Account of Geoffrey Of Monmouth, in the Year 23 of the Rule of King Uther Pendragon of Camelot

~*~

Merlin thought it could not get much colder, but during the night, the temperature had crashed another five degrees into the minuses and not gone up again . In response, he buried deeper into his blankets and tried not to shiver, refusing to get up as Gaius called his name for the third time.

Fires only helped so much. There was one burning in Gaius' chambers, outside his room, but Merlin knew all too well that to get some warmth from it, he would have to stay in a two-feet distance, and he had no inclination to leave the burrow he'd formed out of covers, pillows and his own body heat for that. His breath, when he lifted his head a little to glance outside the blankets, turned into silver mist before his eyes, and he quickly pulled the covers back over himself.

It had been cold sometimes in Ealdor, and he'd often woken up half-frozen. Back then, he'd climbed into bed with his mother to warm up as she kissed his forehead and told him what they would have to get done during the day. Sometimes, he'd gone to sleep with Will, their bodies entwined and waking up the same way, warm, held tight, breath tickling his neck.

He closed his eyes and smiled, because those were the nice memories. Will was gone, leaving an empty, silent spot in Merlin's heart that would always be there, but the truth was it had also been months; he was starting to heal.

The door to his room slammed open, mercilessly interrupting his reminiscences of warm embraces. It was Gaius, shoes visible on the bedside floor, and when Merlin glanced upwards, he saw that his shoulders were hunched as always. He was pointing his finger at the wrong spot in the bed, which made Merlin's grin widen'.

"You are going to get out of bed this instant," he told Merlin. "Breakfast is ready, and it is getting cold."

"It's a wonder it isn't frozen to ice," Merlin replied, unimpressed.

"Out, out, out!" Gaius shooed and pulled off the first blanket, grabbing for the pillow.

"No!" Merlin protested, trying to snatch them back. His hands weren't quick enough, so he let the magic course, floating the blanket back on top of himself. But the warmth was gone, and he shivered against the cold touch of the cloth.

"If you'd gotten out of bed like I told you, there would have been no need for foul play," Gaius scolded.

Merlin wasn't convinced. Gaius was, after all, wearing himself a cloak of thick quilt, and his fingers had to be icy to be the colour they were.

"It's cold," Merlin whined and rubbed his arms, a shiver running down his spine.

"I know." Gaius sighed. He patted Merlin's shoulder in gentle apology and encouragement. "No luck with the spells?"

Merlin shook his head. "Some of them work, but only for a few seconds, then the warmth vanishes again. Nothing wants to stick."

"Well, keep working on it." Gaius gave him a half-smile. "_After_ you serve his lordship the crown prince. I have heard he is especially cranky today."

Merlin groaned.

~*~

Arthur wasn't even out of bed yet when Merlin entered his chambers, breathing warmth against his palms. The top of his blond head was just visible, as were the tips of his toes, as his cover wasn't long enough to cover the length of his body.

"Arthur?"

There was a grumble from the bed, but otherwise nothing. Merlin stepped up to it and found a glare directed at him.

"It is way past sunlight," Merlin said, trying to sound imperative (and failing). "Your knights are waiting for you outside for their daily beating."

Arthur's glare intensified.

"I had to get up from my warm covers as well, _my lord_!" Merlin pointed out, hands on his hips. "And you, unlike me, are expected!"

"Stop saying 'my lord' as if you were saying 'prat'!"

"Stop acting like one and I just might."

A second later, Merlin found himself in the bed, with Arthur pinning him face-down, arm behind his back.

"Abuse!" Merlin cried, gasping when Arthur pulled his arm harder, but couldn't help the bout of giggles that bubbled up, Arthur's hair tickling his cheek.

"Shut up about abuse," Arthur said, but he did let him go when he realized Merlin wasn't joking about the pain. He drew back. Merlin sat up, scrambled off the bed hastily, and then Arthur said, almost like he was surprised, "You're warm."

"I'm not," Merlin protested, sticking out his hand. "Feel. I'm all cold."

"No, I mean..." Arthur looked thoughtful. "Never mind. Now that we're both up, the day might as well start. Go fetch my clothes and my armour. And have you polished my boots?"

Merlin hurried off feeling even colder than before and thinking that it wasn't him who was warm but Arthur, judging from the heat of his body.

~*~

"It has to be magic," Uther's voice boomed from the throne room. Merlin, who'd been passing through the hallway to get to the western part of the castle, stopped at the damning word and winced, hoping this wouldn't escalate into a witch-hunt of epic proportions.

Then the door flew open with more force than necessary and Arthur stormed out, looking irritated and exhausted, still in his training gear. Two knights flanked him left and right, exchanging worried glances.

Merlin didn't expect Arthur to stop by him, but he did, annoyance crossing his face. "Merlin," he said. "Where are you off to?"

Merlin held up a little woollen sack and two flasks. "Gaius needs me to distribute some medicine in the castle and to bring him more herbs. There have been complaints about sickness spreading."

Arthur nodded. "All right, do that first. Afterwards you're going to go pay Geoffrey a visit in the archives. Ask him about this winter plague, maybe he knows something."

"Because it's magic?"

Arthur narrowed his eyes.

"It's not like everyone in the castle didn't hear it," Merlin replied defensively.

Arthur gave him another warning look. "I'll be out all day, but report to me in the evening."

"Will do."

"Also, Merlin?"

Merlin turned back around.

"Make sure the fire's burning as hot as possible when I return, and that my bed is warm for the night. And heat up the bath water. I have a feeling I'm going to need it."

~*~

"It isn't, though, is it?" he asked Gaius later, watching the old man bustle about his chambers, adding strange-smelling herbs into boiling water, drop of lilac and black liquid on top, bubbles rising out of the cauldron.

"Is what, Merlin?" Gaius asked impatiently, looking up. "Fetch me the astragalus. No, the - to your _right_."

"Oh. Sorry." Merlin smiled, sheepish. "Should pay more attention to that, huh?"

"Yes, you should," Gaius replied, but as always couldn't quite hide the answering smile.

"I just - Uther's been going on about how the snow and the cold weather is a magical attack by some evil sorcerer, but if there are no charms to turn everything warm, it couldn't possibly be magic, right? And anyway, who would do such a thing? People are suffering. Everyone is, not just Uther or Arthur."

"I think..." Gaius' potion bubbled up dangerously for the second time, and he quickly took it off the fire. "I think sometimes, it gets cold in winter."

Merlin breathed out. "So you don't know any legends or anything magical -"

"Not that I remember, no." Gaius frowned, squinting down into his liquid. "This stinks."

Merlin sniffed the air. "It rather does. Should it do that?"

Gaius shrugged. "We'll see."

~*~

"The archives, Sire," Merlin reminded Arthur that evening when Arthur asked, voice cool as the weather, what nonsense Merlin had spent all day doing. He'd just returned from his ride. Merlin didn't quite dare to inquire where he'd been, because Arthur looked absolutely furious and his nose was red going on lilac.

"So what did you find out?" Arthur asked impatiently. He tried taking off his boots, groaning from pain when they wouldn't budge. "Aren't you supposed to help me with this, _Merlin_?"

Merlin kneeled down by his feet and started pulling on the first, then on the second one. When he heard the crisp of ice, he couldn't help but imagine the leather, half-merged with skin and flesh, and shuddered. "Sorry. You should put your feet in tepid water, because if you put them in the hot bath first, this'll -"

"Rubbish," Arthur bit out, clenching his teeth. The second boot came off. His toes were blue-ish and looked frozen. He hopped over to the basin Merlin had prepared earlier and sat on the chair, dipping both feet in at the same time. And hissed through his teeth, face a grimace of pain.

"- hurt," Merlin finished, sighing.

"Anything about the sudden snowfall and the sub-zero temperatures?" His eyes were still squeezed shut, but he held his feet underwater with iron will. Merlin had to be a little impressed by Arthur's sheer stubborn stupidity.

"Nothing," he said. "Nothing that would indicate any kind of magic has been used. There have been multiple such winters before, sudden snowfalls, drops of temperatures to minus thirty degrees even, minus forty once. The history books indicate it's fairly normal every few dozen years or so."

"Is that so?"

"You can ask Sir Geoffrey himself, if you don't believe me -"

"What about my bed?" Arthur finally looked up.

Merlin blinked. "What?"

"Well, is it warm to sleep in? I have intention of climbing into it while it's cold as the night outside. I might as well sleep in the forest!"

"I didn't -"

"You're really worthless." Arthur sighed. "Next time, if I ask you to heat my bed, you run to the kitchen and let one of the boys or girls there heat up a stone, wrap it in covers and put it in my bed before I return. Now, get in."

"_What_?"

"Get in the bed, Merlin." Arthur rolled his eyes. "Since there's no stone, you'll do. Let's hope you'll have it warm by the time I'm washed."

Merlin gaped for a second, but realized Arthur was serious about this, and in a way, of course, it made sense. Arthur also was no longer looking at Merlin. He was undressing, shivering as the cold hit his chest. Merlin looked away and slowly approached the bed.

"And take off your boots," Arthur reminded him, making him jump.

For once, Merlin complied without discussion; he put them neatly next to Arthur's. Then he glanced over his shoulder - wished he hadn't, Arthur's naked, muscled buttocks flashing before his eyes as he climbed into the basin - and realized that Arthur was _still_ serious about this.

"_Merlin_," Arthur said, using the sharp tone of voice he reserved to show people he was the prince and his words were command. "The bed will not bite. And I'm almost done. It won't warm up all by itself. I have behind me a futile five-mile ride hunting imaginary sorcerers, and a probable second ride like that tomorrow in the early grey of morning. Do you _want_ to spend the night in the stables?"

"No, Sire," Merlin quickly reassured him, biting back a sharper reply. He closed his eyes and climbed into the bed. He was gratified to realize that the earth kept moving and no abysm opened up beneath him to swallow him whole. He also realized that lying in the prince's fine linen, with his pillows soft against his cheek, on a bouncy and comfortable mattress, was cosy and might have an addictive effect.

Small splashes came from the side of the room where Arthur washed. Wind was whistling through the cracks and chinks in the windows. The light from the candles and the fire crackling made him close his eyes, just for a second. One turned into two, into three, and he thought, he could doze for a little while. Surely, no one would mind.

~*~

A few hours later, Merlin startled awake with a gasp. His head felt drowsy, and he winced when something hit the side of his shoulder. His right arm was numb and icy to the touch. Everything was pitch-dark around him.

"_Meerlinnn_," someone beside him groaned, hoarse and sleepy. "You're supposed to keep me warm, not awake." The voice turned muffled as his head moved to the side. "Idiot."

Merlin felt his face heat up. He was lying beside Arthur, fully clothed, thank the gods, and he had no idea how he'd managed to fall asleep without noticing, or why Arthur hadn't woken him up and - oh. Right. To keep him warm. The _bastard_. Merlin stared at him, trying hard not to feel violated.

"I can hear you think," Arthur's muffled voice resounded, and Merlin could almost hear his eyes roll in disdain. "Shut up and go back to sleep."

"But -"

"That's an order." Arthur lifted his chin off his pillow, turning his head. His eyes were shut, but he still managed a glare. "Or it'll be the stocks all day tomorrow."

Merlin complied at once, puffing out his held breath.

~*~

The next morning, Gaius received him with his arms crossed and eyebrows raised as Merlin shot past, trying hard not to let anything at all show on his face. Of course, he was a crap liar for a reason, and Gaius knew him far too well.

Sadly, it was not Gaius who caught him out. It was Gwen, sitting on the edge of the bed in his room, mouth open when he stormed in, his hair tousled, clothes rumpled from the night.

"Merlin!" she blinked, scandalized. "Where have you been all night?"

Merlin flushed and pointed his finger at her. "Like you have room to talk, Miss I-only-stay-the-night-in-Morgana's-bed-_sometimes_!"

Gwen's mouth fell open. "That is _not_ \- I have not - you've spent the night with _Arthur_?"

"Way to change the topic." Merlin narrowed his eyes.

For a moment, there was silence, then Gwen smirked. "So, was he any good at least?"

~*~

"I will not," Merlin stated, voice hard. "I am putting my foot down." He scowled at Arthur. "This is me, putting my foot down."

Arthur grinned. "Don't be an idiot, Merlin."

~*~

"_Don't be an idiot, Merlin, _ he says," Merlin raved, helping Gwen carry some more non-frozen water to her home to prepare her bath. It froze too quickly otherwise, she'd said, and requested him urgently. "And then he threatens me with the stocks - do you know how much it _hurts_ getting frozen potatoes thrown at your head?"

"You shouldn't give in to him if you don't want to," Gwen said and opened the door for him. "He can't make you, right?"

Merlin glared. "Of course he can make me. He's the crown prince of Camelot and he knows it. He can make me do anything if he wants to, or chop off my head. Since I'm just a servant."

"He'd never do that," Gwen said, ruffling his hair and pouring the water into the iron cauldron over her fire. "Your face's way too pretty."

"Oh, great." Merlin glared. "He'll chop off my head and put it on his shelf to look at it whenever he wants."

"Don't be disgusting," Gwen scolded. "And anyway, he likes other parts of you too."

Merlin slapped his hands over his eyes and convinced himself that he had _not_ seen Gwen look where he knew she'd looked.

~*~

Merlin decided he hated all kinds of snow and snow-related games once he was forced to leave the maybe cold but at least dry walls of the castle to distribute several goblets of warmed wine among the knights. Arthur had sent for him exclusively for this task, and Merlin felt a spike of resentment when he realized that Arthur had known exactly what would happen.

The wine, well-fermented, went to the knights' heads almost immediately. The mood lifted, hilarity settling in as one of them, dropped his sword and helmet and, with a whoop of laughter, scooped a handful of snow and threw it at one of his companions.

In a matter of seconds, the knights were trying to drown each other in torrents of the white powder, and then one of them discovered it was easier to aim and hit when it was hardened between one's hands, and Arthur hollered to duck but it was too late as Merlin, still holding the tray and two more goblets, felt one of the balls hit the side of his head, felling him like a tree.

"Look, the boy!" one of the knights yelled. "He's down! Attack!"

Five of them maybe, or a dozen, followed the war cry, howling like wolves, burying Merlin under their bodies, and he had barely time to splutter or protest before multiple hands filled with snow ended up under his tunic and in his breeches and hair and mouth.

He heard Arthur's voice - "All right, all right, that's enough," - then he was free again, and the boys whooped and fell onto themselves, trying to get each other with the snow. He stayed on his back, gasping, trying to get some air in his lungs, his eyes squeezed shut against the melting snow.

"You spilled the rest of the wine," a voice beside him said, amused. _Arthur_. Merlin felt fingers sweeping the snow from his cheeks and eyes so that he could see again, blurry, able to make out Arthur's mocking smile. "You really should pay attention to these things."

Merlin shuddered at the cold-wet garment glued to his skin and just barely managed to hold back an insult worse than 'prat', "Let go of me," he spluttered instead, water in his mouth, down his windpipe, and he coughed. Arthur was still holding him by the arm.

"Aw, come on, don't be like that."

"Let _go_," Merlin snapped and jerked free, trying to work his feet under him to get away. The sounds of the other knights still horsing around were lost in the rushing of his ears.

"Merlin!"

He didn't listen, running back to the castle, heart beating wildly, soaked to the bone and feeling disgusting and frozen.

~*~

"Can it be goddamn spring already?" Merlin complained, sitting down on his chair for breakfast with Gaius. "I swear this is the longest winter we've ever had. And what is this? Is this even food? It looks like snow."

Gaius grinned. "It's snow porridge. Water is rare. Almost all of it is frozen. You can hold it over the fire for a while until it melts, if you want."

"I hate you," Merlin sighed.

"At least you sleep well these days," Gaius commented. "You look very well-rested. I have heard the prince's bed is highly comfortable."

Merlin glared.

"Hm. I should tell Morgana to try sleeping with Arthur if it makes it so much easier to get proper rest. Poor girl might stop having those terrible nightmares then."

"Yes, why not?" Merlin said, grumpy. "Gwen wants to sleep in his bed, too. Let's make it all four of us. All together. Why, do you want to join as well? Let's invite Uther. Oh no, wait, we can't, he will burn us all for defiling his son."

"Don't be melodramatic," Gaius said, his grin widening.

Merlin stabbed his porridge snow. Snow porridge. He really, really wanted winter to be over now.

~*~

Almost two weeks passed in which Merlin found himself forced to share Arthur's bed nightly. Arthur had never apologized for the snow incident, and Merlin knew he wouldn't. It was infuriating, but he was just a servant to Arthur.

The thing was, before, he'd known his place. Now, it seemed, it was not only at Arthur's feet but also in his bed.

But however annoying it was, it was also strangely pleasing, and Arthur's body moulded with his own easily, even unconscious as they were in sleep. They always found themselves half-entangled in the mornings, making it impossible for one of them to wake without the other getting up as well.

Twice he'd found himself in the precarious situation of having a sign of Arthur's dreams poking him in the back or thigh. More than that, his own - possibly dreams of Will, as they'd been the cause of erections before - or so he tried to convince himself. Certainly not of Arthur, who was a prat, and cruel, and ugly. Especially ugly when the sun was shining in through his eastern window, hair like threads of gold, rays falling on his eyelashes, making his eyes shine golden in profile.

Arthur'd climbed out of bed that morning, stretching his arms over his head, naked as always aside from the loincloth he slept in. Merlin reached out his hand to touch the muscles protruding from his back, imagining his fingertips sliding over strong shoulder blades.

"Clothes, Merlin," Arthur's voice cut through his thoughts, and he startled, rolling over and out of the bed on the other side.

"Yes, my lord," he said, words curt and clipped, and pulled his own clothes more tightly around himself. He was glad for the protection they offered as Arthur strutted towards the fireplace, poking the fire with the iron.

~*~

And then, as sudden as the snow had appeared, thaw set in, and the ice began to melt off the roofs, dripping down like little rivers of rain. The sun came out more and more as the cold grew milder, the harshness of the wind lessening. The people from the outskirts and far-away villages who had come for food and shelter began to return to their homes and the population thinned again.

"Told you it wasn't magic," Merlin said as he lit the fireplace in Arthur's room, getting soot all over his tunic as always, and felt self-righteous and slightly knowledgeable, because he _had_ known - if there was a charm to alter the weather, he'd have found and managed it.

"Indeed, you did," Arthur agreed, grabbing his sword. "Buckles."

"One second -"

"_Now_, Merlin."

Merlin rolled his eyes, felt magic flow through him even without incantation, and the fire burst into flame just as he stood to help Arthur fasten his harness.

"There will probably be a feast," Arthur said, sounding impatient and exhausted. "Tonight. My father will want to make sure the people are reassured that winter is over."

"He might," Merlin said, because Arthur seemed to want a reply.

Arthur frowned. "Be sure to help with the preparations as you can, and feel free to join in the festivities, just remember to keep my cup filled and come up here early enough to arrange for the night as before."

Merlin blinked. "But -"

Arthur whirled around and walked out of the room without another word. Merlin could have sworn he'd seen a flicker of uncertainty flash in his eyes just before he'd turned his head.

~*~

Gwen stood behind Morgana when Merlin approached her. She smiled at him and he felt gratitude wash over him. "Arthur being a monster again?" she teased, touching his elbow.

"It seems to be too much to ask to be allowed to sleep in my own bed."

Gwen giggled. "He's keeping you?"

"It's not like it's still as cold as before!"

"I told you he likes you."

"I don't want..." he said, and did not finish the sentence, because the speeches were over and Arthur was giving him a come-here look, lifting his cup to indicate it was empty. He didn't _want_ to finish that sentence either, because it was a lie, and he hated lying to Gwen. "I need to go."

Gwen smiled again, wistful this time, and he felt her gaze on his back until he reached Arthur's side.

Arthur drank a lot that evening, more than Merlin thought was good for him, and he said so softly upon the sixth refill. "The wine is strong, Arthur. You should be careful."

Arthur poked his cheek with his thumb, his grasp firm enough to hurt, and said, "And who're you to offer that kind of advice? My father? Shall I go find the hat to remind you of your proper place?"

There was a bout of laughter and snickers from the knights around him, and another round of cups were filled, leaving them all blabbering nonsense, slumped in their seats. Merlin sighed in disgust. He decided this was his call to leave and prepare Arthur's chambers for the night. He hoped the fire was still burning; he didn't fancy having to re-start it from scratch. Then he remembered he needed to carry in some more logs from the wood storage and that made him hurry up, glad the castle would be deserted enough to allow him the use of magic. Hauling them by hand would possibly kill him.

The candles burned down one third of the way before Arthur returned. He was supported by two servants who held his weight by his armpits, careful not to have him fall on his face.

When they stepped away and the door closed, Arthur looked a whole lot less drunk. Still, his face was softened from the wine, and there was something different about him as he went and bowed over the fireplace.

"It... smells so nice," he said, sounding surprised. "Like you."

"What?" Merlin stared.

"In the evenings. After you've gathered the wood and... started the fire." Arthur turned his head a little, half-smile curling his lip. "You smell like this."

"Oh."

"Why are you not - not in bed?" Arthur's tongue seemed too heavy for talk.

"I don't think that's a good idea. I should get down to my room, Gaius -"

"- knows you're here. Right?"

"Well, yes, but -"

"So get in."

"I just… don't think it's a good idea." Merlin pulled in his shoulders. "I think I should go."

Arthur pushed off the stone wall above the fireplace and took a step towards him, big and threatening. "Who cares what you think?" he growled. "You do as I say, or -"

"Or what?" Merlin lifted his chin. "You'll have me flogged?"

"You ins- insub- you ..." Arthur grasped his arm, hard, and that _hurt_. "You can't talk to me that way."

"Nobody else seems to, and look how that turned you into an arrogant prat."

Arthur bared his teeth and glared at him, eyes sharp in anger, then his grasp was gone from Merlin's arm and on his face, strong fingers like a vise. Merlin flinched in pain, and Arthur must have seen because his grip turned gentle, barely a touch, a caress, thumb grazing the spot beside Merlin's mouth.

A shudder went through Merlin, heat pooling in his stomach, and most of his blood rushed south. It made him light-headed, just for a second, the second it took Arthur to lean in and kiss his mouth, a little wet and then his teeth biting down, firm enough to sting. The sensation of pressure and the tip of Arthur's tongue licking over his lower lip made Merlin gasp, open his mouth. Arthur's tongue slipped past, and Merlin winced, drew back, startled into stumbles which left Arthur dazed, his arm out-stretched in an attempt to catch Merlin's face.

"I -"

"What?"

"We can't," Merlin said firmly.

He'd caught his breath, and his brain was starting to work again and he knew; he knew too well how bad an idea this was.

For one too-long moment, Arthur's face was bare, laid-out, desperately _hurt_ by the rejection, then it closed completely, and his features grew cool and indifferent as he turned towards his bed, falling back to sit on it, eyes closed.

"Arthur -"

"That's _my lord_ to you," Arthur said coldly. "You may leave."

"I didn't mean -"

"I said, _leave_."

Merlin knew protesting now wouldn't help, knew that it would only be met with more cold anger, so he gave in, feeling in the right still, because they _couldn't_.

He left the room, door falling shut behind him. The corridor was bitterly cold, a stark contrast to Arthur's heated chambers.

He could play the servant, give Arthur his intense loyalty and love, he could kneel and dress and wash his skin where Arthur himself couldn't reach, and hand him his sword before a fight, wishing him luck; he could even warm his bed if it was required of him, stay the night if Arthur needed such comfort and could not find it anywhere else. But he couldn't kiss and offer his body, because Arthur hardly ever knew what he wanted, and Merlin was risking everything as it was, his life, his position, his _home_, for what might just be a tumble in the sheets.

Arthur understood titles and addresses, proper bows and the fact that he had the privilege to be served. He didn't seem to understand that it was wrong, just because they were prince and servant, to believe one worth more than the other, and to abuse that privilege.

Merlin thought about it as he hurried down the hallways towards his little room and felt he'd made the right decision, no matter how his chest burned.

~*~


	2. Chapter 2

~*~

_Accounts of floods have been brought to the king's attention, the melting of the snow has left rivers overflowing, fields swamped, as the sun has returned for high spring. This year's sow will be late, and Uther has sent carriers to the Lords of Camelot to council about the hidage and the reparations necessary to ensure famine can be avoided. Uther knows Camelot is vulnerable at this time, but the winter has not only weakened Camelot. There shall be no attacks this year._

\- Account of Geoffrey Of Monmouth, in the Year 24 of the Rule of King Uther Pendragon of Camelot

~*~

Spring finally arrived in full force, and following the clouds and rain of the past three days, the world suddenly brightened, the sun coming out to blaze and warm the earth.

Things changed.

It wasn't obvious at first. In a lot of ways, it was uncharacteristically subtle, the way it happened. Merlin had never mastered the art of subtlety himself, but if one was to call Merlin bad at it, Arthur could be said to be an absolute disaster. And yet.

At first, it took Arthur a few weeks to get around. Merlin suffered through them quietly. It reminded him of those first days in Arthur's service, when Arthur had not even seen him as an incompetent servant, when he'd simply been below his notice.

Then, one morning when Merlin was preparing his breakfast, setting down his plate and cleaning up his clothes from his chair, he realized Arthur was watching him through half-lidded eyes. It was a calculated look, a look of planning and strategies, a look usually reserved for maps and war, or just before Arthur had to go out and duel an opponent who might not be quite as easy to beat as most.

When Arthur realized Merlin was staring at him, he flushed and stood up, turning to tuck the cover neatly over his bed.

"Your breakfast, my lord," Merlin mumbled, stepping back to allow him to take his seat.

It had been 'my lord' and 'sire' since that night, and he did well thinking of it, remembering not to slip up and call Arthur by his given name. It helped that Arthur stiffened upon the first syllable. They hadn't had a proper conversation in forever, and Merlin found himself missing the banter, if not the abuse.

"Thank you," Arthur said and fell onto his seat. Merlin opened his mouth to reply, 'You're welcome', and then realized that Arthur had thanked him, with no jeer or mocking in his voice whatsoever. He had to close his mouth with a snap to force himself not to comment.

As the rest of the meal passed in silence, Merlin thought it must have been a slip of the tongue, so he stayed in the background, unmoved and invisible, and felt like he was hardly a shadow. Arthur didn't pay any more attention to him, except when he was done. He carefully put his dishes together, not a single bite left on his plate to clean off, and said, "Thank you," a second time, leaving Merlin to carry them back to the kitchen.

His voice had sounded a little hoarse. Maybe Arthur was taking ill, now that winter was over for good. It would be, Merlin thought, a fine piece of natural irony. He wondered if he should ask Gaius for a cure.

~*~

"He definitely sounded like he was coming down with something!"

Gaius gave him a skeptical look.

"He thanked me!" Merlin pointed out. "Twice!"

"There is no disease that induces politeness, Merlin," Gaius told him sternly, "though if there was, I'm sure there would be no harm in making certain people fall victim to it."

Merlin glared. "That is not funny, Gaius. He's sick or something! Maybe he's under a spell. I need to research it -"

Gaius caught his arm. "But not before you make a few deliveries for me. Be quick and remember that you have some more duties to perform."

Merlin remembered. Stables. His face fell. "Can't I have some of that disease, after all?" he asked, looking quite pitiful.

Gaius slapped his back and pushed a little basket of various medicines into his arms. "The bottles are labelled and dosed already. Now, off you go."

~*~

Of course, as fate would have it, Merlin was having great fun rolling around in horseshit when Arthur entered the stables.

Well, it wasn't quite so bad. The stable boys - there were two of them - had already started mucking out the bigger spaces in the back where most of the noblemen's horses were kept, but as always, they had stopped when Merlin entered. Merlin, they claimed, was the only one allowed to muck out the stable for Arthur's very special horse, and they liked to watch him at it, maddeningly.

Merlin sometimes muttered to the damn horse that it wasn't all that special; however, after the third time it nuzzled Merlin's face just after he proclaimed this, he came to the conclusion that it might actually understand what he was saying, and so mostly kept the name-calling in his head from then on.

As for the stable boys, they were sixteen (Edmund) and fourteen (Raff), and the sons of the stable master, and they had the gall to sit on their butts and watch him, twitting as he slogged and swung his muckrake about, getting covered in stink and wet, rotting hay.

"No upper arm strength," Raff commented to his brother with a smirk. The nerve of him, Merlin thought. He was thin as a rake himself! "No wonder it takes him the whole day to tidy out a single horse box."

"Yeah, well," Merlin grumbled, "maybe his lordship's horse shits more than the rest of them combined, ever thought of that?"

They almost fell over laughing at this; then a bit of horse dung went flying past his ear. "Shit," Edmund coughed. "Sorry." Then to his brother, "You try."

"Hey!" Merlin shouted in their direction. "Brats from hell! Stop it!"

"What is _going on_ in here?" a fourth voice sounded harshly from behind them.

Edmund and Raff were on their feet immediately, standing straight like poles in the ground. "Sire," Edmund churned out, voice strangled. Quickly, he bowed and took Raff's wrist, dragging him off towards the back again where they'd left their rakes. They were both flushed pink.

Merlin glared after them. Then he caught Arthur's gaze and realized he was covered in horseshit and sweating, that his hair was probably sticking up in all directions and that he was clutching the rake like his life depending on it. Slowly, he lowered it and loosened his grip.

"My lord," he greeted tonelessly.

"Merlin," Arthur said, sounding… protective.

"Sire?"

"Are they bothering you?"

"What? Who?" Merlin followed Arthur's gaze. "What, the boys? No! They were just… fooling around." He felt himself grow warm under the searching gaze, but he didn't want to get them into trouble. They were good lads, all things considered, and he knew that they'd have made fun for about an hour longer before hopping off their seats and pitching in, helping him to get it done faster so he could go back to his other chores.

He'd managed to use magic for this a few times, but usually it was too risky. He was glad he hadn't done so today. Though the way Arthur was eying his horse's box, none too impressed by the work Merlin had done, he wondered if it wouldn't have been worth it just to see his expression change into grudging admiration, just the once.

"Haven't you been down here for over an hour already?" Arthur finally asked.

"Yes, I know." Merlin rolled his eyes. "Worst manservant ever. Just let me get on with it, will you? I'll be done soon and then you can order me around to do whatever else you wish." Then he caught himself. That wasn't how they talked with each other anymore. He quickly lowered his gaze. "Sorry."

Arthur cleared his throat. He stepped from one foot to the other for a second. "I - would need Llamrai," he finally said.

"What?"

"My horse."

"Oh." Merlin felt stupid. "Of course." Why else would Arthur be here. Surely not to visit Merlin at work. At least, Merlin consoled himself, Arthur wasn't here to watch him make a complete fool of himself. That was something. Some of Arthur's knights had done so at first, coming by to watch Merlin break out in sweat and fight to keep the groans of pain in as his muscles protested. They'd grown bored soon, though.

Merlin had no idea if Arthur knew about it, but it wouldn't surprise him if he did.

It did his arms some good to stand aside, leaning against the wood, while Arthur got his mare. It surprised him to see that instead of hurrying out, Arthur spent a few minutes feeding it an apple before he caressed its nose. Merlin tried hard not to stare at his hand, the strong fingers. When Arthur caught his gaze, Merlin thought he might say something nasty, but he just gave a small smile that looked almost sheepish and said, "Well? Get back to work. If you're not done in an hour, let the boys finish this and return to the castle to get me dinner. I'll be back by then, I expect."

Merlin dipped into a half-bow. "Sire."

Arthur led his horse out of the box and to the front entrance. Then he turned around again.

"Merlin?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

~*~

"He's ill, I'm telling you," Merlin told Gwen later when he met her in the kitchen. She was gathering a tray for Morgana's dinner and told Merlin to get Arthur's favourites and come with her to Morgana's dining room, as Morgana'd requested Arthur dine with her.

"He's not ill," Gwen chastised and stilled the goblet of wine that had been threatening to fall off Merlin's tray. "He's just being polite."

"He's never polite," Merlin told her. "Ever. He calls me idiot all the time! And useless the rest of the time, and a waste of space, and -"

"Maybe he's sorry."

"What?"

Gwen halted him in mid-motion by placing a hand on his arm and gave him a concerned look. "Maybe he's sorry for - being. For asking that of you. You know?"

Merlin flushed. "I never -"

"But he wanted you to, right?"

"How do you know… oh."

Gwen blushed prettily. "Yes. And I didn't mind! Morgana's lovely and I like her and - I mean. I like it. It's also been lonely lately, in the house, all alone. And I think she might be too?"

"Oh."

"But if Arthur pressed and you said no then he must feel - embarrassed. And maybe also guilty because he did after all make you sleep in his bed all winter, and even if nothing was going on, it's still a pretty nasty thing to do to someone who doesn't want to. Not that I think you would have if you didn't want to, but you _might_ have not wanted and I don't know, maybe?"

Merlin swallowed. "I didn't mind _so_ much," he finally said. "I just. It's not right, is it? He's the crown prince of Camelot, and I'm…"

"Merlin." Gwen smiled. "You're Merlin. And you're worth as much as him."

"_Arthur_ doesn't think so, does he." It wasn't a question.

Gwen shook her head. "He seems to be _trying_ to tell you differently?" she suggested.

Merlin grabbed a loaf of bread and the pot of soup and put them on his tray before heaving it. "Well, he should stop trying and just say it then, instead of acting all strange about it. But we're not talking anyway, so."

Gwen sighed and followed him out of the kitchen.

~*~

Morgana smiled at him when he entered with Gwen. Then Merlin spotted Arthur standing by her window, looking out into the courtyard, and immediately swallowed the comment he'd wanted to make about how dining in Arthur's company probably gave her those nightmares she had.

Morgana didn't linger on him - instead, her gaze wandered back to Gwen, and it was as if he was forgotten. Morgana was wearing flowers in her hair, violets, Gwen's favourites. Merlin uncomfortably shifted his stance. They were smiling at each other like they were the only two people in on a secret.

He glanced at Arthur and startled when he realized Arthur was watching the girls too, but with an unreadable expression. It lasted for almost too long, and then suddenly, he looked over to Merlin and Merlin had to break off his own stare or risk being embarrassed. He hurried over to the table to prepare Arthur's place.

"Thank you," Morgana said softly once he was done, and touched his arm. She half-turned. "Arthur?"

Arthur slid into his seat. "Thanks, Merlin." There was none of his usual contempt in his voice this time either, like it hadn't been in the morning when Merlin had brought breakfast, or in the stables or whatever other task Arthur had caught him doing.

Morgana looked amused. "Gwen, feel free to take the evening off?"

Gwen bowed slightly. "I will see you at curfew then, my lady."

Arthur cleared his throat. Merlin thought for a moment he might say the same, saw Gwen's gaze rest on Arthur like she was asking something - then Arthur lifted his chin stubbornly and ordered him, "Find a servant to clear this up after us once we're done. Then wait for me in my chambers."

Merlin opened his mouth to protest, but Arthur just turned to his food. He saw Morgana roll her eyes at Gwen.

"Fine," he huffed.

Gwen left first, and Merlin closed the door behind them.

"What are you laughing about?" Merlin asked when he spotted her mirth.

"Nothing," she assured him, still smiling. "It's just a little sad, isn't it?"

"What?"

"Well, the way he's trying to be _better_."

"I don't see him acting better at all," Merlin told her and walked off, feeling betrayed. He had no idea what Gwen was talking about.

~*~

Arthur's chambers were, for once, not a mess. This meant, and here Merlin began to worry, either he'd found someone else to usurp Merlin's position and take a few of his tasks off his shoulders, or - even more worrisome - he had actually taken the time to put things in their proper place instead of strewing them across the floor and leaving them for Merlin to pick up and clean.

It did leave him with little to do but to sit down and wait for Arthur to return. He figured Arthur would stay at least another hour with Morgana. He had not yet forgotten how soft and comfortable the bed was, so he let himself fall back onto the mattress to wait.

It was a stupid thing to do. He should have known his eyes would close all by themselves and that he would, reminded of the nights he'd spent here, fall asleep.

He was woken up by a hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently.

"Merlin?"

"Oh, shit," he cursed and bolted upright. Arthur was quick enough to duck and barely escaped the elbow that might have otherwise embedded in his throat. "Sorry."

Arthur snorted. "I hardly need evil sorcerers after me when I have you by my side, do I?"

"I'm not the one sneaking up on sleeping people!" Merlin protested.

"No, you're the one falling asleep in other people's beds."

Merlin felt himself flush. "Yeah, that. Sorry, I just sat down for a minute -"

"It's fine."

Merlin's smiled gratefully.

"Just be glad I didn't find you here still in those rags you wore to muck out the stables."

"I do wash sometimes, you know," Merlin told him, feeling out of sorts. Why was Arthur back to bantering now when, just this morning, things had been awkward and neither of them had been quite sure how to talk to each other?

"I know." Arthur gave him a smile. It wasn't one of the arrogant ones, the ones that made Merlin want to call him a prat to his face, or the superior ones that made him look like he'd had a brilliant idea how to either humiliate someone or make them suffer.

He hadn't seen either of those for a few weeks, now that he thought about it. A healthy dose of rejection might do that to a person, he figured.

Still, this smile made his knees a little weak, as it was bright and gentle and it reminded Merlin of the smile Morgana and Gwen had shared before.

"I should… go," he said quickly, standing up.

"Merlin -"

"What?" Merlin swallowed. "Sire?"

"I should - I think I ought to - I mean. I _want_ to… apologize."

Merlin froze in mid-step to the door. "You… you do?" It wasn't that it was so surprising; Arthur did apologize now and then when he felt bad enough about something. It was just that he hardly ever apologized to _Merlin_. Not that Merlin wanted his apologies, even though he sometimes felt like he deserved them.

"Yes. I am sorry."

Merlin narrowed his eyes. "What exactly are you sorry _for_?"

Arthur wasn't looking at him, instead glaring at the floor between his feet like it had done something unforgivable to him. "I should not have - forced myself on you," he finally said, unemotional and void of any actual remorse. "I am sorry if I hurt you. That evening." There, a little hitch in his voice, but still there was no actual feeling in his tone.

"You didn't," Merlin finally said. "It's fine."

Arthur looked up, surprised. "Really?"

"I just wonder," Merlin continued, and couldn't help his own voice growing sharp, "if this is actually your apology to me or if it's, I don't know. Morgana's?"

Arthur's face tightened. "It's mine."

"So she didn't tell you to -"

"Morgana isn't in any position to tell me to do anything!"

Merlin winced. "Fine. I accept your apology. _My lord_. May I take my leave now?"

Arthur stood up. "Merlin -"

"It's fine. You said the words, right? There's no need to _actually_ feel sorry for making me do things I might not want to do, since I'm just your servant, and you can take advantage, right? Since you're the prince and all."

"That's not -"

"Maybe your other servants don't mind you treating them like you own them. I don't know. Or maybe they just don't tell you to your face because they're scared of you."

"You're not scared of me," Arthur said.

"No. No, I'm not."

Arthur took a step forward, and Merlin stiffened. "Why not?"

"Because you're not nearly as scary as you think."

"I can order you to the dungeons."

"So you can."

"Or the stocks."

"Wouldn't be the first time."

"And you keep talking back to me, like you - like you don't _care_ what I can do to you."

Merlin didn't tell him that in actuality, Arthur couldn't do anything to him that Merlin didn't want; that wasn't the point. The point was, all the other servants didn't have that luxury. _Gwen_ didn't have that luxury, and Merlin knew that while Morgana might never let anything happen to Gwen, none of them had been able to protect Gwen's father, and the reason for that was because Uther had seen neither Gwen's pain as human nor Gwen's father as anything but pure evil.

Merlin didn't want Arthur to be like that. Merlin wanted Arthur to see that while he might have the power over his subjects to do what he liked, that didn't mean that he should use or even abuse them.

"Of course I care what you can do to me," he finally said. "Maybe I just believe that you're a big enough person to not do anything to me you wouldn't do to yourself. And let me make my own choices for the rest."

Arthur stared at him, and Merlin held his gaze, staring back.

"Someone - Guinevere said a similar thing to me once," Arthur murmured at long last, and his eyes lost focus. Then he was back. He let his arms fall to his sides, fists clenched. "I really _am_ sorry, you know?"

Merlin nodded.

"And Morgana didn't tell me what to say. I mean, she did, in a way, but not… she doesn't know that we -anyway. You may go." Arthur tensed. "I meant. If you want. You can stay, if you want, or leave, or - do you know how to play chess?"

Merlin blinked. "How would I have learned it?"

"Right." Arthur shook his head. "Philosopher's Game? Jackstones?"

"We played Hazard," Merlin said slowly. "In Ealdor. And catch, and hide-and-seek."

Arthur's face momentarily lost all seriousness and slipped into an expression of hilarity. "I'm not playing hide-and-seek with you."

Merlin laughed. "You don't need to play anything with me!"

"Aw, come on, don't be a spoilsport."

"It's getting late, and -"

"You just slept on my bed for at least an hour," Arthur pointed out with a grin. "You can't be sleepy still!"

"Gaius -"

"- has probably gone to bed and anyway, don't tell me you've never stayed out past your bedtime, don't make me laugh. Get us some wine and I'll prepare the chess board and teach you."

Merlin raised his eyebrow.

Arthur halted, then he pressed his lips together and swallowed. "I mean if - if you wanted to play."

For the first few seconds, it felt good to watch Arthur's face redden as he fought with his pride, but then Merlin started to grow uncomfortable. It was mean to pretend he didn't see Arthur was struggling to wrap his head around the fact that Merlin wanted him to treat servants as something akin to equals, with respect and some value. It also stopped being funny when he realized that Arthur was trying, for _him_, to lose the preconceptions, to unlearn what he'd been taught to think since his birth.

"I'd love to," he said, and smiled slightly. "I'd love to learn. I'll check for the wine in the kitchen. Would you like it warmed, my lord?"

Arthur opened his mouth, then breathed in. "It's Arthur. And yes. Thank you."

Merlin could feel a brilliant smile settle on his own face and felt his stomach coiling with warmth when Arthur slowly returned it.

~*~

It all worked quite well, at least for a few sunny days of blooming spring, which were spent with Arthur asking instead of ordering, and thanking instead of mocking. Merlin was on the brink of telling Gwen all about how he thought Arthur might start believing in those actions, not just doing them because Merlin had dared him to be a better person.

Sadly, there was very little time, with a handful of the neighbouring lords visiting to council, and discuss Camelot's resources for the coming year, especially after the last hard winter - or as Arthur said, "They're coming to endlessly blather on about _production, distribution and efficiency_, blah blah."

Production, distribution and efficiency aside, however, Sir Elec and Sir Elyan had broken out in a quarrel, and Arthur was direly needed to solve this spat before they could go so far as to proclaim a challenge to the death. Merlin had a feeling that first blood might have been spoken a few minutes after he'd hurried off to fetch the prince.

The council was gathered in the throne room, he knew that, so that was where he headed first, panting as he ran; for all he cared, the young knights could smash each other's heads in, but he knew Arthur would be mad no one had told him what was going on with _his_ knights; and Merlin knew that if Arthur ever learned Merlin had known and hadn't fetched him, there was a remote possibility he might politely ask Merlin to scrub all of his chambers' floors in retribution.

Merlin didn't want to tempt fate, since Arthur had been gallant and pure-hearted lately and the gentle, tender smile he sometimes got on his face when he looked at Merlin still made Merlin dissolve into sighs when he didn't have himself under control.

Sadly, he didn't even need to tempt fate. Instead of storming into a room full of lords making plans, Merlin found himself stopped by something else entirely in the hallway _before_ the throne room, a few steps down from the door he'd been headed to open: he saw Arthur and by his feet, a servant girl, her eyes huge and horrified as she scrambled for the pieces of broken plates from her tray, trying at the same time to mop up wine that was spilled over the floor and scurry together the fallen food.

Merlin forgot all about knights and quarrels and challenges to the death as his heart squeezed in his chest painfully.

"How does my father manage to employ only useless boors, can't you fucking look where you're going?" Arthur sounded irritated, his voice harsh and cold as he tried to wipe a spreading wine-stain from his breeches.

The girl winced and gathered the last pieces of fine porcelain, and she must have cut herself on one of the pieces because there was blood dripping down her hand.

"Look at this, heavens, this is never going to come out! What are you doing down there for so long? No wonder you can't walk properly if you spend your days on your knees - well, get up! Get this sorted out and fetch me some other idiot to get this laundered - well? Hurry _up_!"

The girl hurriedly got to her feet, her face pained and reddened in humiliation. She bowed, almost dropping her tray again as the goblet on it swayed dangerously. "Sire, I apologize -"

"Don't apologize, just get moving!" Arthur glared. He looked back at his breeches, then cursed a few more times under his breath and lifted his head.

Their gazes met as the girl hurried past Merlin, and Merlin saw Arthur's eye widen comically before his expression shut down completely and they narrowed. His face, pale before, reddened. "What are you doing, lurking around in hallways?"

Merlin opened his mouth, trying not to swallow his tongue. "What was that?" he pressed out. "She was _hurt_! And you treated her like -"

"A servant?" Arthur sneered.

"Like she was dirt!"

"Yeah, well." Arthur tried to move past him to get away, but Merlin caught his arm. Arthur pulled free and stepped back. "What?"

Merlin's stomach was a ball of nerves, and his chest burned. "_What_?" he asked incredulously. "You want to bed me so badly that you'll play my game for a few days and when you've had me, you'll go back to treating me like shit?"

"That was not what this was about."

"No? Then what was it about?"

Arthur stilled. His hand clenched into a fist around his sword. His face was still red. "What are you asking?"

"You know what I'm asking," Merlin spat. "It was worth your while to apologize to me. Or - at least the prospect of fucking me was?"

"That was not the reason!"

"So what was the reason?"

Arthur stayed silent.

"If you really are you being _a better man_, there should be no problem setting your pride aside to say you're sorry for treating this servant girl worse than a roach!"

Arthur pressed his lips together. "I can't do that."

"Right. Because it's under your notice. Because she's not worth it. You're _pathetic_."

"You can't talk to me that way," Arthur bit out sharply.

"We've had this discussion already," Merlin said coldly. "I can talk however I want. I'm your _servant_, not your slave."

"What, pray tell, is this commotion about?"

At the new voice joining in, Arthur stiffened and his face lost all colour. Merlin felt his own eyes grow huge.

Uther.

"Well? What is this insubordinate spat?" Uther strove forwards, two knights flanking him, half a dozen lords following on the foot as they curiously watched the spectacle unfold. Merlin thought, a hysterical bubble of laughter rising in his throat, that he really should try and pick a better time and place for these things.

"Arthur?"

"It's nothing," Arthur quickly said. "There was a misunderstanding -"

"I can see that." Uther said. "There seems to be a misunderstanding about a common servant's standing in this household." His eyes passed over Merlin like he was hardly seeing him, and Arthur opened his mouth to protest, but before he could utter a word, Uther turned to him, face hardened, and said, "I will not have this kind of defiance at my court. Get him flogged properly or I'll have him hanged from the rafters for treason."

"Father -"

A murmur from the lords sounded at the disobedience. Uther clenched his teeth. "Ten lashes should do. If you feel it doesn't help his attitude, feel free to increase the amount."

Merlin stared at the king open-mouthed, but Uther didn't so much as glance at him, just stepped closer to Arthur. Even though it was probably meant for Arthur's ears only, Merlin heard his murmur, "And if I hear you've not learned this lesson and let him go without punishment, I'll have you flogged along with him."

Out loud, he said to the knight to his right, "Get him to the dungeon, I'll send the executioner," and to Arthur, "Be glad I'm not making a public spectacle of this." Then he turned back to the other lords, still murmuring. "Let us go back to discussing the lands."

A servant forgetting his place might have been a novelty, but a servant put in his place certainly wasn't, so the lords followed him back to the throne room, wafting cloaks and talking amongst each other, probably no longer remembering there even had been an incident.

The only ones who stayed behind were the knight who approached Merlin, grasping his arms behind his back to lead him down to the dungeons, and Arthur, eyes full of disbelief. Merlin could feel his own hands starting to shake.

At least, he thought a bit hysterically, they were on the same page where this was concerned: things had very much not gone according to plan.

~*~

It hurt.

That was all Merlin could think about as he slumped to the ground after the tenth strike. It hurt like nothing in his life had ever hurt before; he'd thought - after three, he'd thought, 'this isn't so bad,' and then the fourth had made his knees buckle with searing hot-burn pain and the fifth had already been unbearable.

He could feel hands heave him up by his armpits. He groaned and flinched away, but the scent and the warmth and the soft murmur of "It'll be fine, shh" filtered through, and of course it was Gaius who slowly helped him to his feet and led him. Merlin's eyesight was blurred from the tears down his face and he couldn't see where he was going. It hurt too much to think.

When he woke up the next time, he was laying in his bed, on his stomach, arms by his sides, and his back was throbbing. He tried to move and it felt like someone had dropped acid onto his back. He moaned pitifully.

"Don't move, don't try to move," someone said, and a hand touched his cheek when he turned his face towards them. Gwen was smiling at him, but it was tinged with sadness, and her eyes were huge and worried.

Voices filtered in through the rushing in his ears and he could make out Morgana and Arthur, fighting somewhere in the background.

"Uther cannot do this," Morgana was saying, voice high-pitched. "Merlin didn't do anything wrong -"

"Talking back to the prince of Camelot is 'wrong'."

"Don't be an idiot, Arthur, you can't punish someone for telling you you've got a big head, it's not even a lie."

"Don't you start," Arthur said sharply. "It's not like I ordered his punishment."

Merlin whimpered as the voices grew louder, hurting his head. Through half-lidded eyes, he saw Gwen stand up, face furious, and then he only heard her hiss something venomously and he blanked out.

The sun was shining when he opened his eyes later, and it was almost too warm in his room as it reached out to him through the window, falling onto his face. He was lying on his back, this time. His body hurt less than before. He could even move a little without falling unconscious. The pounding in his head had stopped as well.

For a little while, Merlin just lay there, enjoying the rays caressing his face, and the warmth - spring has settled into a warm early summer by now, even though summer wasn't actually due yet for a good two months. Then he re-opened his eyes and turned around to get out of bed.

He was surprised to find Arthur sitting on a chair by his bed, dozing, with his chin on his chest. He must have made some kind of sound, or maybe a hasty movement, because suddenly, Arthur's head snapped up. His eyes widened before he stood and stepped closer to the bed, blinking. "You're awake."

"And you were sleeping," Merlin murmured. "How long have you been here?"

"Don't be ridiculous, I just closed my eyes for a minute. I just came by to check how your recovery was coming along. I'm missing a manservant, in case you were wondering."

Merlin gave a wry smile. "I feel fine, thank you."

"Really. Then why are you starting to sweat from exertion?"

Arthur caught a drop of sweat from his brow with his finger, and Merlin felt his body respond with a shiver. He startled, drew back. Arthur bit his lip and stepped away as well, giving him space.

The door to his room opened and Gwen hurried in. "Oh," she said and flushed with pleasure. "Merlin. Let me get Gaius, he's been worried sick."

"She's been worried sick as well," Arthur commented once she was gone.

Merlin shrugged and winced. "She cares about people."

Arthur scowled. "You say that like you think I don't care about people."

"I know you care about your people when you talk about 'the good of Camelot'," Merlin told him. He found it hard to think. He wondered when Gaius would be here so he wouldn't have to have this conversation now, with his mind befuddled from pain and possibly drugged with most of Gaius' concoctions. "I don't think you care about the servant girl whose hand was bloody from plate shards or - or Gwen's father getting killed because yours -"

Gaius entered and it was probably just as well because Merlin could see Arthur's brows drawing together in the beginnings of a thunder storm and he might have said something unforgivable if he'd been allowed to continue that sentence.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," Gaius said quietly. "My lord, if you would step aside so I can take care of Merlin's wounds; he will be available to your service again in a few days." There was a sorrowful smile on his face, and he looked exhausted.

Arthur waited, staring down at Merlin. Then, finally, he said, "Yes. Yes, of course."

He left the room, door falling shut behind him. Merlin sighed and fell back with a groan of searing pain jerking up his spine, only now realizing his entire body was covered in sweat and he was breathing hard.

"You shouldn't exert yourself yet," Gaius fussed. "Your fever just broke. Be glad it broke at all and you didn't just die -"

Merlin closed his eyes and fell back asleep.

~*~

"You should give him another chance," Gwen told him a week later.

He'd resumed his work, but Arthur was keeping him on very light duty. He'd been allowed to get the laundry - once - and to sit and supervise as a few kitchen maids brought Arthur's food and sat it up in his usual manner. He'd also been made to sit on the grass by the practice field to watch the knights get slaughtered by Arthur, again, and again, and again. His punishment, Arthur had told him, for not informing him of the upcoming first-blood duel between two of his best knights. ("And be glad I'm not making you a referee for that one, you idiot.")

"A chance for what?" Merlin asked tiredly and watched her collect Morgana's laundry from a basket by the night table. Why, he wondered, didn't Arthur have a basket to collect his laundry in? Possibly, he answered in his mind, because Arthur would never use it anyway.

"You know," Gwen poked his shoulder. "A chance. He's been working really hard this week to make you happy."

"What?" Merlin stared at her. "Are you sick? Do you have that illness Arthur caught shortly before he got me flogged?"

"I'm not going crazy," Gwen told him, rolling her eyes. "I'm just saying. He helped me pick flowers for the lady Morgana two days ago! The river's gone down finally and he rode out with me to my favourite pastures."

Merlin felt his eyes bulge a little at that mental image.

"And he apologized to Madeleine."

"Who?"

"Madeleine, the kitchen girl? Her hand's all right again. She tells me to say thank you for standing up for her, by the way. She said she listened a little to what you said to Arthur and that she was scared for you, but she wasn't quick enough to warn you about Uther, and didn't want to be punished too."

"Oh." Merlin blinked. "Thanks. I mean. Tell her. She's welcome. I guess." Then he swallowed. "He really apologized?"

Gwen nodded. "I think he even - you might want to ask Gaius."

"Ask Gaius?"

"He - picked up some salve, from Gaius? And helped her with the hand, to get it to heal faster."

Merlin swallowed. "He's a prat, that's what he is," he said, feeling his throat tighten, and stood up from his seat on one of Morgana's chairs. "I should go and muck out the stables."

Gwen sighed and called after him just as he was going out the door, "Edmund and Raff are instructed not to give you a rake!"

Merlin called back, "I'm not afraid to get my hands dirty!"

~*~

Edmund and Raff were not in the stable, but his luck always held open a back door to smack him in the face, so of course, instead, he found Morgana, feeding her horse and brushing its mane lovingly.

"I hope you're not here to work," she teased. "Because I've heard from Arthur that you're on light duty until he says otherwise."

Merlin stuck out his lower lip and sat down on one of the boxes stacked by the wall. "You don't make Gwen muck out your horse's box," he finally said.

Morgana let go of the mane and sat down next to him. She smelled of animal and sweat and not at all the ladylike scent he was used to from her, of perfumes and hair powder or whatever it was ladies used these days to get pretty.

"That's because I don't trust Gwen with my horse," she joked.

Merlin glared. Only a little, but he glared.

Morgana sobered. "Arthur loves that mare," she told him. "He's had her since he was a little brat. He used to tidy her box himself until a year ago or so. Then Uther forbade him from doing the kind of work servants are supposed to take care of."

"Oh."

"It must be a male thing," she went on, oblivious. "Conveying things in the most complicated way possible, just so you just don't have to speak the words. What's wrong with telling someone you love them? It's not that hard."

"He doesn't -"

Morgana silenced him with a look. "Really. You're the only one allowed _in_ that horse's box. He almost beat me up the one time I tried."

"That doesn't mean anything."

"He apologized to a kitchen girl a few nights ago. If Uther finds out about this, he'll burn you on a stake."

Merlin winced. If the punishment fit the crime…

"Don't worry," Morgana told him wryly. "He'd never let that happen, he'd sooner offer his crown to me and carry you off into wherever it's safe for you. Possibly, you'd just go to Ealdor to live under your mother's roof, making a bloody nuisance of yourselves, eating the poor woman's livelihood out from under her hands - have you _noticed_ how much Arthur's eating, it's uncanny!" She sighed. "How's your back, anyway?"

"I'm fine," Merlin said hoarsely.

"Look." Morgana grasped his wrist and forced him to look her in the eye, even though they were sitting almost too close for it to be comfortable. "He's not going to change in a day, or even a week, or a month. He sees you and you turn around what he thinks what the right place for things in the world is. You and me, we both know that servants and princes are the same underneath their fancy _or_ ragged clothes, but we see things in a way _they_ can't _dream_ to understand."

Merlin's eyes widened, but she was shaking her head, like she hadn't meant to say that, and went on, "But you make him say please and thank you whenever _you_ want, and call him a prat and an ass when other people have been beheaded for less -"

"I don't want him to behead people for his idiot pride," Merlin told her.

"And you should keep telling him that."

Merlin looked away.

"He needs you by his side to become that king I see in my dreams," Morgana whispered, her voice quiet as a wind's breath. "He needs you to teach him that the best knights are common and the best tables round."

Then she let go of his wrists as fast as she'd caught them and stood up, heading back to her horse. "It doesn't matter what you choose to be to him," she said loudly, closing the box and then stepping away, towards the stable entrance. "All that matters is that you're there, with him, where you're meant to be."

~*~

Gaius looked up from his reading when Merlin entered and shook his head.

"You're going to scold me again, aren't you?" Merlin sighed deeply, stopping in his tracks.

"Yes, Merlin," Gaius said gravely. "How often have I told you not to drag the lady Morgana off into the stables in plain daylight?"

Merlin blushed fiercely. "I did not - how did you even _know_ -?"

Gaius grinned, teeth flashing. "I have my sources."

"It must be magic," Merlin proclaimed in a very bad Uther-imitation.

Gaius' grin widened. "About."

A few minutes later, after Merlin was seated and Gaius done with the book he'd been reading before Merlin had interrupted, Merlin asked, "Is it true?"

"What?"

"About Arthur and the kitchen girl?"

Gaius' eyebrows went up.

"I _mean_," Merlin corrected, glaring, "if it's true that he got some salve for her hand to help it heal more quickly? The kitchen girl who got hurt when he ran her over?"

"I see." Gaius gave him a searching look, and he really did seem like he saw all too well. Merlin shrunk under the gaze, but held his ground. "Yes, he came by to fetch some salve, though he did not explain what he intended its purpose to be."

"Oh."

Gaius stood up from his seat, then, passed by and clasped Merlin's shoulder, making him wince as he said, "I did wonder, you know, if he was maybe getting it for _you_?"

His tone was suggestive enough to elicit a reaction: Merlin's eyes widened and he jumped up in mortification. "Ah no. And I should really be going now to - ah. My room," he said quickly. "Lots of magic to study. Still looking for that weather charm, or making one up, or trying to, in any case. Thanks. For the. Never mind." If there was one thing he did not want to think about it was Arthur touching him, like that, and Gaius _imagining it_.

Gaius snorted, completely unperturbed, and started humming as Merlin let the door fall shut, his face burning.

~*~

That evening, Merlin slipped into Arthur's chambers unseen and sat down on the edge of the bed, enjoying the warmth, the last sunrays of the day lightening the sky outside, barely visible from Arthur's windows. He thought back to sleeping in it nightly, and how he'd enjoyed it more than he'd claimed. He would have never admitted it out loud, but he was missing the cold winter a little by now. Nothing of this would have happened if it had just gone on and on, forever.

Arthur would be out for a while yet. He knew Arthur had been out riding through the fields a lot since that council meeting with the lords, making sure the villagers and peasants were doing well with their sowing, that the kingdom would have enough to harvest in the coming fall. A lot of people would starve if the harvest was bad and the next winter as harsh as the last one.

It still hurt, that Arthur had hardly spent any time in Merlin's presence lately. 'Take it lightly, Merlin!' apparently meant Arthur not even requesting Merlin to help him get dressed. The least he could do, Merlin felt, had been to make sure to have Arthur's fire lit (despite the warm days, it got very chilly at night still) and his bathwater ready when he returned.

So it was also this evening. He was half-lulled into sleep, tasks finished, sitting on Arthur's bed again, when the door opened. It was Arthur, stepping inside, clothes torn and bruised. Merlin was on his feet instantly, approaching him with concern.

"What happened?" he asked, reaching for the shirt to pull it off, see the wounds. "Do you need me to get Gaius?" Who would probably give Merlin the medicine and make _him_ rub it into Arthur's wounds, out of pure evil glee. Sometimes, Merlin really hated his work.

"No, it's fine," Arthur thankfully groaned when crusty blood ripped off some skin along with the shirt. "Just a family of boars attacking the horses when we made through the woods. Must have - ah - hit a nest or something by accident."

Merlin clenched his teeth and felt strange helping him to get it off. He could almost feel every tear as painfully as Arthur must. Thankfully, it was only grazes, skin broken in a few places where he'd fallen off his horse and skidded over the forest floor. Not that Arthur would ever admit to such a thing.

"You should take better care, Sire," he whispered, getting a cloth and wiping at the dirt to clean the cuts.

Arthur tensed at the address. "What is it to you?"

"Nobody wants to see you die from an infection," Merlin chastised.

"Right."

Merlin couldn't help but feel elated that Arthur sounded disappointed at this, that Arthur wanted him to _care_. So he rubbed at one of the cuts and then looked up, tilting his head. "Prat."

Arthur's eyes clouded. "What?"

"You are. You're a complete idiot, not looking after yourself."

"Merlin, what are you -"

Merlin didn't listen, just bowed over Arthur's arm, still holding on to his wrist, and placed a kiss on the inside, just a quick one. His lips tingled, more when he placed another kiss on the inside of Arthur's elbow, and his upper arm, the muscles there tight with tension.

"Merlin," Arthur breathed. "You shouldn't if you don't want to." It sounded like it hurt to say those words, a lot worse than the wounds.

But he'd made his decision. It was his risk to take, and he wanted that risk, like he wanted Arthur to become that king with commoner knights and that round table with no ruler at its head that Morgana had foreseen.

"I want to," he mumbled into Arthur's skin, kissing his collarbone, and then his pulse point, blood pumping through his veins fast and hard, and when he placed his hand on Arthur's heart, he felt it beat like a drum.

"You said -"

"Gwen says if you hurt me, she will personally ensure Gaius drugs you just enough so you'll be able to enjoy Morgana cutting off your manhood."

Arthur's laughter vibrated through both their bodies, and Merlin felt himself smile, relief flooding his chest.

"I'll keep trying," Arthur said.

Merlin looked up at him. "What?"

"The - being a better man. I will be that. You can trust me in that. I promise it." Then Arthur's hands grasped his hips, holding him in place as he lowered his chin and merged their lips together, kissing him, feverish and hot.

This time Merlin responded, fighting him every step of the way, tongues dancing as he pressed their bodies together. Arthur's dirty trousers rubbed against his own clean ones. Strong fingers, often careless in their touch, cupped his backside, pulling him up and close.

~*~

They lay in Arthur's bed the next morning, side by side, naked, half-buried under the covers and Arthur slowly traced a line down Merlin's arm, looking at him. "It's turning summer," he said slowly. "I know that... I mean, I don't need you to warm my bed. But if you would like, you could stay more often?"

It was an offer. Merlin closed his eyes and nodded, just a quick incline of his head. He'd never known Arthur to go back on a promise, after all.

~*~

\- Epilogue -

_The Prince (Arthur, future king) of Camelot has gotten over his utter prattishness, and as the sun rises towards the summer solstice, he has learned that lying back to enjoy it is actually quite an experience, too, as opposed to his never-ending quest to pin my (Merlin's - future first court advisor) arms above my head. Gwen (queen of Camelot, as far as I'm concerned) has been telling me that I have a soppy grin on my face half the time, but the truth is, it's him - as the time to the mid-summer tournament approaches, his knights have been trashed far less often than before and they keep insisting I drag him off the practice field so they can have half an hour rest between -_

"Merlin! What _are_ you doing, Geoffrey is going to _kill_ you -" Arthur hissed, popping up in front of him, and Merlin opened his mouth to reply.

"Geoffrey is going to kill you _for what_?" a second figure appeared behind Arthur, and Geoffrey's face turned, as his eyes fell onto Merlin's scribbles in his diary, into a thunderstorm of rage.

"Quick!" Merlin gasped, fighting a burst of laughter bubbling up in his chest as he grabbed Arthur's arm. "Run!"

~*~

The End.

_~~ written in April 2009_


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